


Dragon, Wolf and Spear

by MayorHaggar



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Femdom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:50:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayorHaggar/pseuds/MayorHaggar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night before a departure from King's Landing, Trystane and Sansa attempt to conceive an heir under the watchful eye of Queen Daenerys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dragon, Wolf and Spear

Trystane was just sitting down to break his fast when Daenerys visited him. He smiled as she entered, but that was no surprise. Tomorrow they would depart King's Landing for a visit to Sunspear, and her husband was very much looking forward to returning to his childhood home and visiting with his sister Arianne, Dorne's new ruler. He could hardly contain his excitement.

“Good morning, my lovely queen. Would you care to join me for some Dornish eggs and spicy peppers?” Trystane offered, gesturing to the empty chair across from him.

“Thank you, husband, but no. I've come to discuss an important matter we must tend to tonight.”

“Really? Nothing that will interfere with our trip, I hope.”

“No, you and I shall leave tomorrow as planned,” Daenerys confirmed, and Trystane smiled in relief. “Before we leave, though, we must make another attempt at conceiving an heir.”

That wiped the smile from her prince consort's face, as she'd known it would. “Not this again! Can't it wait until we return from Sunspear?”

“No, it cannot,” Daenerys replied curtly, annoyed with him. This was a frequent point of contention between them, and she was tired of listening to his complaints on the subject. “The princess consort is remaining here in King's Landing along with Willas to keep the peace in my absence, and we will not see her again for some weeks. You will have one last try at putting a baby in her belly before we leave.”

“I know that we need to produce an heir, but if you would only allow Sansa and I some privacy--”

“Absolutely not,” Daenerys cut him off. He was pushing her past annoyance and into anger now. “This child will be my heir, the future king or queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I will be there to see the child conceived, just as I will be there to raise it and teach it to rule.” Her tone made it clear that she would not relent no matter how uncomfortable he'd be with her in the bedchamber watching as he coupled with his-- _their_ \--wife. Trystane had been with her long enough to know that arguing the point further would be fruitless.

“Fine.” Trystane sighed, but prudently backed down. “I've promised to have lunch with Sansa today, so I'll tell her then.”

“No need,” Dany said with a smile. “I've already told her, and she's very much looking forward to it. If only her enthusiasm would rub off on you.” Trystane grumbled at that, but offered no other response. He sullenly turned his attention to his eggs, so she left him to eat in peace while she spent the rest of her morning preparing for her trip.

Daenerys stopped by the Tower of the Hand and briefly conferred with the Hand of the Queen, Willas Tyrell, who would be running King's Landing alongside Sansa while she and Trys were gone. Sansa was as intelligent and shrewd as she was beautiful, as any who dared to try and play her false learned to their great sorrow. The scholarly Willas had given Dany excellent counsel ever since the Tyrells had ceded their claim to the throne, taken up her cause and helped her dispose of first the traitorous Lannisters, and then the false dragon who played at being her long dead nephew Aegon. The capital would be in good hands. 

After she'd won back her family's seat and reunited the fractured and devastated Seven Kingdoms under her rule, it had been Willas who suggested that she solve the issue of her infertility by marrying both Trystane and Sansa. Dany thought it a powerful statement: the dragon reclaiming its throne and marrying representatives from the ruling families of both the northernmost and southernmost kingdoms of Westeros. Their triple marriage defied the conventions of every religion practiced in the realm, but just as her ancestor Aegon the Conqueror had demonstrated during the dawn of the Targaryen dynasty, even the most devout men hold their tongues when dragon fire is the alternative.

The symbolic gesture of uniting with north and south wasn't the only reason she'd agreed with Willas' suggestion. As different as they were, she found herself drawn to both of her consorts. 

Trystane was everything his poor dead older brother Quentyn hadn't been; handsome where Quentyn was plain, tall and sleekly muscled where Quentyn had been short and stocky, witty where Quentyn had been dull. A marriage with Quentyn would never have worked, but Trystane had been a fine prince consort so far. Dany knew he would pass his wits and humor on to her heirs, and be the comforting and supportive male presence Viserys had failed to be for her. She did find his bashful behavior in their marriage bed odd considering Dorne's open and free attitude towards sexuality, but it amused her rather than upset her. Besides, his two wives had boldness aplenty.

Sansa had come to their marriage a maid, but possessed none of Trystane's timidity. Even on that first night, she hadn't been bothered by her queen's presence as Trystane claimed her maidenhead. She hadn't objected when Dany gave instructions or actively joined in, and it wasn't long before she sought Dany out herself. 

The princess consort brought more to the marriage than northern support, a lovely body and fantastic sex, of course. No one who had been present at the Dreadfort and seen the vengeful look in Sansa's eyes as she'd whispered “the north remembers” and buried a dagger in Roose Bolton's heart could ever doubt the steel hidden beneath the princess consort's beautiful exterior. She could ruthlessly outmaneuver and eliminate any who stood against her, but she was also a compassionate and caring ruler who had won the love of the smallfolk. Dany could freely admit that Sansa understood the finer points of ruling and how to play the game of thrones better than she herself ever had and likely ever would in the future. With both Sansa and Willas as tutors, Dany was sure the next king or queen would be far better prepared for the throne and all of its responsibilities than she had been.

Daenerys was confident that with the three of them working together, they'd be able to rebuild the war-torn Seven Kingdoms. For the stake of stability, though, she needed an heir. The sooner the better.

_With any luck, tonight will be the night_ , she thought to herself with a smile.

–

Once her pair of consorts arrived at her chambers, an already nude Daenerys wasted little time in instructing them to strip. Sansa complied immediately, slipping her green gown from her shoulders and revealing her firm breasts to her audience. Dany drank in the sight, and her right hand absently toyed with her own breast, supple in its own right even if the princess consort's chest was larger. Sansa smirked at her, then spun so her back was to the queen. Slowly, teasingly, she inched the gown down her body, knowing how much Dany loved watching her undress. 

As Sansa bent to slip the gown from her legs she made a show of wiggling her arse, which just so happened to be directly in Dany's line of sight. Dany leaned forward in her comfortable chair to get a better look at her wife's round, pale bottom, and fantasized about taking Sansa over her knee and spanking her until those pure white cheeks were as red as her hair. _It will have to wait until we return from Sunspear_ , she decided with more than a little regret. As much as she would enjoy it, there were more important things to be done in her chambers on this night.

While her attention had been on Sansa, Trystane had removed his shoes, shirt and breeches and now stood in her chambers wearing only his smallclothes. He made to take those off as well, but Dany held up a hand to stop him. “Wait,” she said, standing from her chair and slowly walking towards her husband. “I'll do it myself. Sansa, go lie down on the bed. Hands and knees, facing away from us.”

Sansa laughed. “Yes, Your Grace.” She put a little extra sway in her hips as she walked away, and both Dany and Trystane were transfixed as she crawled onto the queen's bed and assumed the position, putting herself on display for their eager eyes.

Mentally shaking herself, Dany grabbed Trystane's smalls and unceremoniously yanked them off. She tossed them aside without a care, then gripped his manhood. With both of his wives nude before him, Trystane was already hard enough to begin. He still looked nervous and tense, though, and that wouldn't do. Daenerys felt he could use a bit of encouragement before he got started. She leaned into his side so her mouth was right next to his ear and began to gently stroke him.

“Look at her, Trystane,” Daenerys whispered into her husband's ear. “Look at her smooth skin, her pale arse, her lovely little cunt.” Her hand sped up, and she could hear Trystane's breath hitch. “Men from every corner of Westeros fantasize about the lady Sansa, but you're the _only_ man who gets to see her, touch her, fuck her.” 

Her eyes left Sansa's exquisite form long enough for her to look at Trystane's face. His initial reluctance was fading, and mindless lust was beginning to take over. Smiling to herself, she continued to steadily jerk him while her other hand joined in to play with his balls. “She's yours,” Dany moaned. “She's _ours_.”

Seeing that the prince consort needed no further encouragement, Daenerys returned to her chair and left him to it. He climbed onto the bed behind Sansa, grabbed her waist and entered her in one swift thrust. He was not gentle and did not waste any time in gradually building speed; instead, he immediately pounded into her as hard and fast as he dared. Their wife grunted, but voiced no complaint as Trystane roughly fucked her. He maintained his grip on her waist so he could pull her back into his forceful thrusts. There was a loud _smack_ each time Sansa's buttocks met Trystane's hips, and the bed rocked with the force of their coupling.

This beginning may have provided Trystane with an important boost in confidence, but Daenerys quickly grew bored with it. It had been necessary for Sansa to kneel facing away from them for Dany to make her point to Trys, but the angle left the queen with a terrible view of the encounter from her chair. She wanted to see Sansa's breasts, the undisguised pleasure in her expressive blue eyes, the smile gracing her beautiful face when she looked in her queen's direction.

“That's enough of that. Trys, on your back. Sansa, on top, facing me.”

Trystane grumbled in annoyance, but he knew better than to ignore a command from his queen. He reluctantly pulled out of Sansa and rolled onto his back, not meeting Dany's eyes even as he obeyed her. She merely smiled to herself; once Trystane got started and lost himself to the pleasure, even momentarily, he became quite pliable for the rest of the encounter. 

Sansa saw her smile, and smiled right back. “Enjoying yourself, Your Grace?” she asked, her pleasant and conversational tone completely at odds with her actions, She'd straddled Trystane and was teasingly rubbing her slit against the underside of his cock.

“Not as much as I'm about to be,” Daenerys responded. She watched attentively as Sansa held Trystane in place with her hand and lowered herself onto him. Sansa sighed and shifted her lower body once she'd gone all the way down. She leaned back to rest her hands on Trystane's legs, which had the pleasant effect of prominently displaying her pale breasts for Dany to ogle. While fully impaled on her husband, Sansa swung her hips in a circular motion, eliciting a loud groan from Trystane. Her breasts jiggled enticingly as she moved, but Daenerys knew they'd look even better if she started bouncing on him. 

“Sansa, lean forward and start riding him,” Dany instructed. Sansa, who had been looking over at her unwaveringly since going on top, giggled and nodded.

“As you command, my queen,” Sansa said sweetly. Her hands left his legs and came forward onto his chest for balance as she raised herself up off of his cock slowly, then dropped back down. Dany could see Trystane's hands curve around to tightly grip Sansa's arse and help her bounce in his lap with greater force. The princess consort continued her routine, gaining speed and momentum with every rise and fall of her hips. 

Daenerys was aware that her husband and wife were speaking to each other as they fucked, but only peripherally. She was far too focused on the steady rhythm of Sansa's bountiful breasts to pay much attention to anything else. Dany longed to worship them properly, but her fun would have to wait until Trys had spent his seed inside their wife. On the other hand, just because she couldn't indulge herself at the moment didn't mean she couldn't order her husband to do so on her behalf. 

“Trystane, play with her breasts. _Gently._ ” No sooner had she given the command than Trystane's hands left Sansa's arse and came up to cup her breasts. He palmed them in his hands and gently stimulated her hard nipples by rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. Sansa moaned in appreciation of Trystane's efforts, and Daenerys smiled. She was well aware of how good Trystane's hands could feel; she'd been the one to teach him how to properly use those hands, after all. She closed her eyes and mimicked his actions on her own breasts, imagining that it were Trystane's hands upon her instead

“Enjoying yourself now?” a panting female voice asked, and Daenerys opened her eyes. Sansa was smirking at her, and had obviously been watching her even as she continued to ride their husband.

“Yes,” Dany breathed. She was unsure where to look; between the look of unconcealed lust in Sansa's blue eyes as she stared at her queen, the pleasant flush of her pale skin and those lovely breasts still being worked by Trystane's hands, Dany was being presented with more erotic images than she could handle. She decided to meet Sansa's open stare while her right hand left her breast to dip down between her legs. The queen let out a throaty laugh as the princess consort's eyes darkened with lust.

“Are you wet, Your Grace?” Sansa asked, slowing her pace atop Trystane slightly. “Are you getting wet watching me ride _our_ husband?” 

Rather than voicing a reply, Dany simply raised her hand to Sansa's eye level. The elder of the Stark sisters ceased moving altogether so she could lean in for a closer look, and moaned as she saw the telltale wetness on the queen's fingers.

“I wish I could touch you myself. I wish I could _taste_ you.” Sansa started moving again, though not quite as fast or as hard as she'd been going prior to being distracted by her wife's erotic display. Trystane's hands had left Sansa's breasts to rest on her hips some time earlier, but Daenerys was too preoccupied to notice or care. Once Sansa had made her plea, Dany's hand had gone right back between her legs and was now moving with much greater urgency.

“You can taste your fill soon enough,” Daenerys said through a moan. “You'll have to finish our dear husband first, though.”

“Glad to know you haven't forgotten I'm here,” Trystane quipped, causing Sansa to snort in amusement. Dany couldn't see his face from her chair, but it sounded like he was grinding his teeth in concentration. _Trying to hold on as long as he can, no doubt._

“Never, my prince. But can you blame me for being distracted, staring at our lovely wife bouncing on your cock?”

“No,” Trystane was forced to admit, and Dany chuckled. Now that she was paying a bit more attention to him, she could see that he was now actively thrusting his hips up to meet Sansa every time she dropped down onto him. His hands gripped Sansa's hips almost hard enough to bruise, and he was emitting adorable little moans and whimpers despite his best efforts to remain quiet. Daenerys had fucked her husband often enough to recognize that he was nearing his end. She got up from her chair and walked over to another side of the bed, intent on putting herself in the best possible position to view his release.

Sansa could sense their husband's state as well. “Come on, Trys. Let go,” she begged. He opened his mouth to say something in response, but she leaned down and cut him off with a hard kiss. She nipped his lower lip between her teeth, then gently bit his left earlobe. 

Knowing that that was a particularly sensitive spot for Trys, Dany was not surprised when this sent him over the edge. He wrapped his arms around Sansa and hugged her tight against his body as he managed a few last urgent upward hip thrusts. Trystane's body tensed, and Sansa muffled his incoherent cries with another kiss. Daenerys closed her eyes and said a silent prayer to the Great Stallion, the Old Gods, the Mother, and any other gods that cared to listen.

_Please, give me an heir. Give me an heir that we can raise, and nurture, and teach to rule, so that Westeros will not tear itself apart again after I am gone. Please._

She opened her eyes upon hearing a satisfied sigh from Sansa. The princess consort had dismounted their husband and lay sprawled across the bed, her head facing away from Daenerys. With her knees raised, Sansa was presenting her with a marvelous view of her cunt. It was no accident; Sansa knew how much she liked to see the end result of their coupling. Dany stared between her wife's legs, at the bit of Trystane's seed that had dribbled out from inside, and smiled broadly.

“Is that good enough, Daenerys? Can I leave now?”

Dany glanced up at Trystane. Now that the deed was done and he no longer had the pleasure to preoccupy him, his standard timid nature in the bedchamber was returning to the forefront. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, hunched over as if trying to shield his nakedness from view. If not for his smooth olive skin, she knew she'd see him blushing.

“No,” Daenerys decided after a moment's consideration. “As we are leaving tomorrow, you need to make another attempt tonight.”

Trystane exhaled and nodded, looking as if he'd expected that answer. “I'll need some time to recover,” he said quietly.

“Of course,” she said brightly, giving him a kind smile when he looked up from the floor and met her eyes. “You did well, husband. Go and sit in the chair, and I'm sure Sansa and I will give you something to help with that.”

“We will, will we?” Sansa said as she sat up and quirked her eyebrow at Dany in a playful manner. She shared one final kiss with Trystane before he got up off of the bed and went to the chair Dany had previously occupied.

“Absolutely,” Dany replied, her violet eyes darkening with lust as she took in her wife's body, somehow even more lovely now that she'd worked up a light sheen of sweat. She climbed onto the bed beside Sansa, and the princess consort welcomed her with an eager kiss. While Dany moaned at the sweet taste of her wife's lips and tongue, her hands did some exploring. Dany briefly stroked Sansa's pale legs and thighs and made sure to give her arse a good squeeze and a couple of playful swats, but soon ran her hands up north. She rubbed her wife's sides and flat stomach, and idly hoped that Sansa's pale belly would soon grow large with the future king or queen of Westeros. 

When the queen's hands reached her breasts, Sansa broke the kiss. “I saw you staring at my tits while I was riding Trys. You couldn't wait to touch them, could you?” Sansa teased. Dany's only response was to continue to fondle her wife's chest with her hands and lean in to capture a nipple in her mouth. The redhead gasped and latched onto her silver hair to hold her head in place. Daenerys gave her what she knew she wanted and lightly bit Sansa's nipple. The queen and her consort had done this often enough for Dany to know exactly how much pressure to apply without hurting her wife; Sansa moaned wantonly and clutched her silver mane tighter between her fingers. 

Dany pulled back and gave Sansa a shove. The princess consort gasped in surprise, but was already giggling as her back hit the mattress. Those giggles were promptly muffled when Daenerys shuffled forward on her knees and lowered herself onto Sansa's face. “Lick,” she commanded.

Sansa didn't need to be told twice; her tongue got to work straight away, lapping at the wetness between her thighs. Dany groaned and closed her eyes in pleasure; she had very much been looking forward to having her wife's face between her legs. Trystane's tongue was ever eager and steadily improving, but she doubted he would ever match Sansa's skill. Sansa eliminated all reason for doubt on the matter once she turned her attention to her nub. Dany's eyes shot open, and she could not contain her scream of delight. Hopefully faithful Ser Barristan, standing guard outside her door as always, did not misinterpret it and barge in to her defense. Thankfully, her loyal knight gave no reaction to her scream that Daenerys was aware of, but it had a definite impact on someone else. 

“Seven hells,” Trystane swore, and Dany looked over at him. He was still seated in the chair, stroking his hardening member. By the look of it, it wouldn't be much longer before he was ready for another go at Sansa. If the gods were good, his seed would quicken within the princess consort on this night.

Sansa had given her a moment's reprieve, but soon dove back in for more. Her hands grabbed Dany's arse, and as the queen began to vigorously grind her cunt on her wife's face, she wondered if perhaps it wouldn't be the worst thing if Trystane's seed didn't take hold tonight. After all, once Sansa was with child, it might be more difficult to get Trys to acquiesce to these encounters.

Then again, they could hardly afford to stop at just one child. And Daenerys certainly wasn't going to miss the conception of _any_ of them.


End file.
